Out of the Picture

It's better with me that way, night or day, I'd only be in the way... for it's better with me...

Out of the picture.

The Canvas

Pink paint waiting, yearning and burning to run if only that

one streak of life for the moment it streams down the canvas and shrivels up.

Thumper

Tick tock goes the clock,

the clock of life inside.

Pumping crimson through the veins,

until the cells collide. 

Weary and tired it wants to stop,

It throbs to finally rest.

And if it quits tonight in bed,

I could say I've had the best.

The pain it tries to rear its face,

When the moon is hanging high.

If only I could sprout some wings,

I'd join it in the sky. 

So now I lay me down to sleep,

I'll shut my crystal eyes.

And if I wake to see the dawn,

It'll be a big surprise. ;) 

Declutter and Butter

Diet gone to hell in a hand basket so lay on the butter while I declutter my mind, my life, my heart, my health..as the candle burns a bright blister into my eye drops against the blue walls the crow calls at my doorstep where I keep the broom to bust the dusters, the leaves they cluster this time of year when the deer drink dew frost and this week the Hawks lost. Declutter bring the butter, I jump for joy, find a lost toy in the mystery meat megacrap this place had become...time to clean up. Love fall. Love this time of year. Do I make that clear? I think so. Now if only one day I could live to see a tree covered in color..it's on my bucket list!  

Tiny World Open Door

The universe spins and rotates,

and funnels it's energy,

toward a tiny world,

toward the city of Jacksonville,

and the power descends,

the law of attraction, 

where random is no longer random,

and self creation defeats fate,

and odds are defied,

because she draws from the well,

and she knows what she knows,

what she has always known,

and the kavorka fills her cup,

and she drinks,

and a miracle which is not a miracle,

opens a doorway to a new world.

By my good friend Kev

A Trash Can and The Way I Feel

Hurt and battered, splattered and splayed, almost betrayed...when you give someone the world why can't they share it? I mean sharing is caring in a world of pink possums that hang in a row like love bugs that take tow, smashed on the grill of life, their hell without Halloween, once a queen, always a pauper, a beggar, a talker. A lover of the unloved, as gentle as a dove but mad as a wet hornet and the words damn scorn it, because if I could REALLY say the way I feel right now....the words would do best in the trash can....in never ever land. 

Three Acts

Being left out is an emotional drama that unfolds in three acts: discovery, distress, and, if you can get there, detachment. Being left out is the dark side of friendship